The Mechanic

The mechanic came to my house to diagnose my car. It died on me -- a pretty violent death, I might add. This is the third time in just a few months. Only a month ago, the mechanic replaced the transmission. Not being mechanical myself, my first thought was that the mechanic somehow screwed up.

The mechanic came to my house late Friday afternoon -- a Friday right before a holiday weekend when traffic is at its worse. He drove up in his 1989 Honda Civic carrying some parts and wearing a smile.

While he was diagnosing my car, he told me that he is a drag racer. He modifies old Honda Civics to be raced. He only races on a track. He's been doing it for years and spends all his extra time and money working on his cars. He doesn't paint his race car because he doesn't want it to be a target. He is wary, living in a rough neighborhood where cars and bikes and anything on wheels is fair game. He had one really souped up car that was stolen. The police never found it. This one had recently been broken into. The vandals took the window of the frame and laid it gently on the back seat. They didn't take anything because the mechanic had nothing to take. He told me an engine for his little Honda Civic could cost as much as $10,000. Since he's been working on cars since he was 14 (he's 23 now), he can do all the work himself. That's what he works for -- to build and race cars.

What a nice guy this mechanic is! He drove all the way to my house to diagnose my car, and did so graciously. I really appreciated that.

Ultimately, the problem, as explained to me by the mechanic, is the air pump. Nothing to do with the transmission.